


no fault of mine

by orangecrane



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva is a Good Friend, Angst, Canon Era, Davey and Finch are there for like a scene each but theyre there, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Injuries, Mild Language, No Period-Typical Homophobia, Not Canon Compliant, Racetrack Higgins-centric, oh yeah hotshot makes an appearance to, technically, uhh is there anything else i need to tag?, yeah theres some comfort I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangecrane/pseuds/orangecrane
Summary: When what's supposed to be a happy day ends up being a terrible mess, Albert's left to pick up the pieces. But not everything is quite as it seems. (In which if people actually communicated a lot of pain could have been prevented. Maybe).
Relationships: Racetrack Higins & Albert Dasilva, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

“Damn Race, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Race absolutely lit up. He’d already been unreasonably upbeat all day, from having a huge smile plastered across his face from the moment he woke up to practically skipping to distribution. He’d also been unusually giggly and had been draping himself all over Albert with a level of drama that was usually reserved for special occasions.

“Oh don’t get him started,” Albert groaned, “he’s been talkin’ my ear off about his date with Spot for the past two weeks.”

“Ain’t you two been on dates before,” Finch directed at Race, “what’s so special about this one?”

“Yeah, but today is exactly one year after our first date! Spot’s got a big surprise planned an’ I can’t wait,” Race was practically vibrating. “We’s gonna meet by the bridge after selling today, it’s why I’m staying in Manhattan with Al today to sell.”

“Well, good luck wit’ that Race,” Finch smiled. “And Albert, I hope you still have ears by the time you get home.”

The smugness practically radiated off of Finch. Albert grumbled and rolled his eyes at his teasing tone. “Wouldn’t bet on it…”

\---

Race had just sold his last pape and was on his way to meet Spot. He was most certainly not barely restraining himself from running all the way to the bridge. Besides, if he did that then he’d only be early and have nothing to do but wait around for Spot to show up. So Race walked, at a perfectly normal walking speed, the rest of the way to the place they were supposed to meet.

He still arrived about fifteen minutes early, but that wasn’t a big deal. He could just pace around a bit and daydream about what they were going to do once Spot got here.

Race dreamed of walks in the park, of admiring the very last of the autumn leaves before winter well and truly came. Of holding hands to keep warm in the chilly night air and stealing kisses in the shadows. Of sharing a proper meal, the kind lowly newsboys never got to eat. Race dreamed of Spot. 

He kept daydreaming until a passerby accidentally bumped into him.

Huh… that was odd. He had been lost in his own head for so long that he hadn’t noticed nearly half an hour slip by. That in it of itself wasn’t weird, Race was easily distracted and had a vivid imagination. But that meant Spot was fifteen minutes late.

Spot was almost never late. In fact, he often prided himself on his punctuality. Race was the one who got sidetracked or miscalculated how long it took to get somewhere or just plain forgot. 

He must’ve gotten wrapped up in something with his boys. Oh well, Race had made him wait enough times to be forgiving about it this once. Even if it was a special day.

So Race resumed his fantasizing. Warmth and sweet words and Spot.

But that only lasted so long. Because fairly soon, Spot was half an hour late. Now Race was beginning to worry. What was keeping him? Did Race have the wrong place?

Another thirty minutes passed. Spot was officially an hour late. Race didn’t think Spot had been that late to anything in his life.

Another hour. Race was panicking. Did Spot forget? 

No, Race was certain he wouldn’t, couldn’t when they had spoken about it just yesterday. Race had tried to get Spot to tell him about their plans but Spot was ever tight-lipped.

Was he hurt? Spot was strong but it wasn’t impossible.

Did something happen to one of the Brooklyn kids? But if he had known he wouldn’t be able to make it, wouldn’t Spot have sent a runner?

Another hour. What if Spot wasn’t coming? The sun was setting and Race was still waiting.

Another hour. Spot wasn’t coming. It was dark and Race was cold. He wanted nothing more to curl up into a ball and cry. Spot wasn’t coming, he’d left Race waiting for hours on their anniversary. Race felt sick to his stomach thinking of how excited he was only a couple hours ago, how he spent all day looking forward to this, weeks of- of hope and excitement and love. And this is what he got for it. 

But maybe.

Another half hour. Race went home, tears blurring his vision. 

He couldn’t feel his fingers or his toes by the time he arrived at the lodging house. A few of the older boys who were still up tried to ask him how it went. He ignored them. Stormed up the stairs and into the bunk room, to find Albert waiting up for him.

“Racer, how’d it-”

He cut himself off upon spotting the tear tracks on his best friends face.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Race tore his boots off and climbed into his bunk. Glad that at least his best friend knew when not to push him. He’d have to talk with Albert about what happened in the morning, but for tonight he could wallow. And wallow he did. The moment he allowed himself to think of Spot and the disaster that was tonight, hot salty tears streamed down his face. It felt almost like they were burning him. Race just laid there, mulling over everything that happened and how hurt he was until his head was pounding and the tears stopped. Only then did his mind quiet and he fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

\---

Race awoke to the piercing shriek of the morning bell. He groaned, yanking his pillow over his head and trying to block out the sounds of the boys getting ready. That, on top of the fact that he was so hot he was sweating, made him dread the coming day. He threw his thin blanket off of him in an attempt to cool down. He’s nearly back asleep when something clangs the bed frame near his head. 

“Whadda fuck?” Race’s head was still ringing and getting up to sell was the last thing he wanted to do today.

“Up and at em, sleepyhead,” Albert proclaimed. Race groaned, he was so tired. “Oh man, you look like shit dude.”

Race cracked his eyes open just enough to glare at his best friend. “I feel like it too, now lee’me alone.” Race’s voice was so scratchy that it even surprised him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sell today Racer,” Al sounded worried. He reached over to put his hand against Race’s forehead, but he batted his hand away and whined. Al frowned with concern.

Race was going to object, he really was, but his head was pounding, his throat hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He ended up grunting and turning over to go back to sleep.

“Hey Jack! Racer ain’t lookin’ too good-” Albert’s voice faded into the background.

Race slept fitfully for a few hours, always too hot or too cold and in too much pain to really sleep. He wanted Spot. Spot always knew how to make him feel better, where was Spot?

Maybe he could ask some of the other guys, he could hear their voices but struggled to make out what they were saying.

_“really warm”_

_“out in the cold”_

The voices were too distant for him to recognize so he couldn’t understand what was going on. Wasn’t he supposed to be meeting Spot, was he going to be late? Race tried to push through the fog in his mind but only succeeded in confusing himself more. Why was it so warm, wasn’t it autumn?

_“bad condition”_

_“crying- Spot”_ That was definitely Albert’s voice.

Race whined, tears of frustration stinging his eyes. He was tired and confused and just generally feeling pretty awful and he wanted either Spot or Albert to come make it better. Having them around always made it better.

Fortunately, someone noticed he was awake and shortly after he had his favorite red-head by his side. Race sat up and grabbed at Albert’s arm, looking somewhere between lost and scared. “Albie…”

“Heya Racer,” Albert began, real gentle, “how’re you feelin’ bud?”

Race just whined and buried his head into Al’s shoulder. Even the idea of talking hurt.

“Yeah, I can imagine, Specs n’ Daves say you’re runnin’ an awful fever. It musta been from being out in the cold last night.”

Race’s head was swimming and he had a hard time focusing on what Al was saying, but he thought he got the gist of it. Wait… “Spo-”

He was quickly quieted by Albert handing him a glass of water and gesturing for him to drink. Where did he get that? He certainly didn’t have it when he climbed up to Race’s bunk. Race drank the water in small sips, with Albert watching, until he finished the glass. Al took it from his hands and handed it to someone standing at the side of the bed. Oh, so that’s how he got it. Race was so, so tired.

Just as he was drifting off, leaning entirely against his friend, he jolted. “Spot- I’m supposed to meet Spot,” Race barely managed to slur out. Albert shared a look with the other boys who Race still couldn’t be bothered to identify.

“He’s not-” The mystery voice was cut off by a swift kick from Al.

“I… I need to meet Spot, where is he? I wanna see Spot!”

“Race why don’t you lie down,” Albert tried to gently push him back down.

“No,” Race said indignantly, deliriously. “Spot!” he called out, half expecting him to be just out of sight, like Albert had been. Why wasn’t Spot coming? He was always there for Race, Spot wouldn’t leave him like this.

Finally, Albert grabbed his hand. Through gritted teeth he said, “Spot’ll be here soon, he just had some business to deal with in Brooklyn, why don’t you get some rest in the meantime so you’ll have some energy when he gets here?”

Oh. That made sense. Race nodded agreeably and allowed himself to be pulled down to rest his head in Albert’s lap. He was tempted to try and stay awake anyway but he was exhausted and Al’s hand in his hair felt really nice, so he surrendered himself to sleep once more.

Though, this caused him to completely miss the discussion that followed.

“Spot’s not coming, we haven’t spoken to him at all, why would you say that?”

Albert rolled his eyes, he liked the guy plenty. but sometimes Davey just didn’t get it. “He was completely out of it, we needed him to calm down and he wasn’t gonna do that without Spot bein’ here so I did the next best thing. Besides, he probably won’t even remember this when he wakes up.”

“Well… maybe we should go talk to Spot and see if he can check on Race.” Albert was hesitant to do that. If only because of what he had seen last night.

“Evening distribution starts soon, you’ll miss it completely if you go to Brooklyn, and I have to stay here with the dumbass who went and got himself sick.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Davey insisted. And, well, Albert certainly had a few things to say to Spot given Race’s expression when he got home last night, so it really didn’t take much convincing.

“Yeah, I’ll head over tomorrow and get Jack to watch Racer while I’m gone if he isn’t any better.” Davey looked pleased at that, he still wasn’t fond of lying but he understood the utility of it. He really was worried about Race, and if Race wanted Spot then he wasn’t sure why Albert needed any convincing at all, but then again maybe he was missing something. He tended to miss social things like this.

Davey was ripped from his musings by Albert, staring down at him from Race’s bunk, “You better get moving or you’ll miss distribution.”

“Oh yeah! I’ll see you around Albert.”

“You too, Daves,” Albert nodded to Davey as he exited the bunk room.

\---

The next day saw almost no improvement. Race was still running a fever high enough to be seriously disoriented and was continually asking for Spot. And Albert, once he left. 

So Albert was on his way to Brooklyn to ask Spot Conlon just what the fuck he thought he was doing to Albert’s best friend. He wasn’t one-hundred percent certain what happened, but he’d spent enough of the last day listening to Race’s whining and rambling to piece together that Spot hadn’t shown up and Race had been left waiting for him for hours. He was also tempted to blame Race’s sudden sickness on him too, if only because he was frustrated and angry on his friend’s behalf and didn’t have anywhere else to direct those emotions. And maybe Race wouldn’t be sick at all if he hadn’t been out there in the cold waiting for some bastard who wasn’t coming.

Once he reached the Brooklyn lodgings he knocked twice loudly and stood there, arms crossed and clearly displeased. It was Digs who opened the door, normally Albert thought she was pretty cool but he was in no mood to be friendly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where’s Spot?” She looked a little taken aback by his tone, and narrowed her eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“I need to have some _words_ with him.”

Digs observed him warily, “I have to talk to Hotshot, wait in the common room and don’t touch anything. She allowed him inside and disappeared up the stairs. It was about two minutes before she returned, Brooklyn’s second in tow.

“Get outta here ‘hattan.”

“Not until I give Spot a piece of my mind.”

“Spot isn’t taking visitors right now, leave,” Hotshot ordered. Albert was pissed but wasn’t willing to risk a serious conflict between boroughs, for now at least. 

“Got any idea when the all mighty King o’ Brooklyn will deign to see me then?”

“No, now leave before we make you.” Digs was standing silently by Hotshot’s side, she hadn’t said anything since returning but was obviously willing to back her second’s orders.

Albert glared at the other newsies, and made his way to the door. He paused before exiting. “Hey, Spot!” 

His voice echoed throughout the old building.

“He waited for you, you know,” Albert spat out before storming out of the Brooklyn lodging house and going back to Manhattan to look after his best friend. Someone had to, and he clearly wasn’t going to be able to get through to Spot.

\---

Race woke up around noon on the third day feeling much better. He was still kind of dehydrated and groggy, but it seemed his fever had broken. He dragged himself out of bed, careful not to lose his balance on the way down, and slowly changed into a cleaner set of clothes and grabbed himself a glass of water.

Once he finished his first glass and went to fill it up again he was interrupted by someone else entering the room.

Albert looked surprised. “It’s good to see you on your feet, Racer. You feelin’ better?”

Race downed half his glass before answering. “Yeah,” he said, voice still raspy.

Albert smiled, then gently grabbed the glass from his hands and topped it back up. “”M glad, but Specs’d kill me if he found out I was lettin’ you overexert yourself when I was supposed to be lookin’ after you. And before you start poutin’, I’ll sit with you, Jack n’ some of the other boys have been pitching in to cover us so I can stay and babysit you.”

Race started pouting anyways. “I don’t need no babysittin’!” Race frowned, “An’ I don’t like the idea o’ the other boys needing to pay for us, especially when I was the only one who couldn’t sell.”

Albert snorted. “Too bad you big baby, you were outta commission and someone had to look after ya sorry ass.” Albert nudged him back towards the stairs. “Now c’mon, we got some stuff we need to talk about.”

Race followed him back up the stairs and to the bunk room, admittedly confused. He hadn’t been out of it that long, what could he have missed? 

Albert took a seat on his own bed and gestured for Race to sit with him. Once he did Al handed him the glass back. Race took a few small sips. “So what did you wanna talk about?”

“Well the night before you got sick you were kinda a mess,” Albert began, “and then you had a nasty fever and seemed pretty upset about what happened. I think I got the basics but you were pretty incoherent…” 

Oh yeah, that. Even the mention of that night made Race’s throat tighten. His hands started shaking slightly and Al once again removed the cup from his grasp.

Race sucked in a shuddering breath. “So uhh… basically? Spot never showed up, I waited for hours and- and I just kept thinking ‘Maybe he’ll be here in a few minutes and if I leave I’ll miss him’” Race trailed off.

“I only left once it was too cold and it was clear that… that Spot had either forgotten about me, didn’t care, or something bad had happened to him.” Race sniffled.

Albert looked kind of heartbroken on his behalf. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled Race into his side. “I went to go talk to Spot yesterday,” Albert admitted.

“You what?” Race turned to face his friend.

“I knew something had happened between you two and you kept asking after him.” Race flushed with embarrassment. “I wanted to find out for sure what happened, maybe give him a piece of my mind, and see if he could come see you. Figured he’d want to know you were sick, why wouldn’t he? Anyways, he wouldn’t speak to me at all and some of his newsies wouldn’t even let me see him.”

Race looked down and balled his fists in his pants. So Spot had really just stood him up and then refused to even talk to his best friend. They’d been together a year and Race thought he knew him, though with how things were looking, maybe not. He fully curled into Albert’s side. He didn’t want to think about Spot anymore, he just wanted to fall asleep to the sound of someone who actually cared about him breathing.

\---

Four days after the anniversary Race was back on his feet, well enough to sell, and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Spot. He spent the day in Manhattan on Jack’s orders. Couldn’t risk something happening to him too far away from home.

However, the day after he was allowed to return to Sheepshead once again. He was sort of expecting to run into Spot. After everything and Race not selling for a few days he thought that Spot would at least care enough to come talk to him. Then again he thought Spot wouldn’t ditch him like he did, so maybe it was a problem with Race’s judgement. Race just sold and went home, not feeling up to betting or waiting around for Spot. Again.

The pattern continued like this for a few days, Race would show up to sell, maybe chat with any Brooklyn newsies he came across, then leave. Whenever he tried to ask about Spot they just deflected. It was really starting to get on Race’s nerves. 

If Spot wanted to break up with him why couldn’t he say it to Race’s face instead of hiding away like a coward. Everyday he waited for Spot to make the first move, Race wasn’t the one in the wrong here! And everyday he heard nothing. 

Well Race was sick of waiting around for stupid Spot.

\---

“Race? What are you doin’ here?”

“‘M here to see Spot.” Well, more specifically he was there to chew Spot out and possibly end their relationship if he didn’t have a damn good explanation for his recent behavior. He loved Spot, he really did but Race was not going to allow himself to be treated like this. He deserved better than someone who hurt him like this. But he wasn't gonna dump all that on a kid, especially one who could stop him from doing so.

The kid, Flicker, hesitated. “Spot’s not seeing anybody right now.”

“Well can’t I be an exception?”

“I’m really not supposed to…”

Flicker seemed very conflicted. Race didn’t want to use the kid but… he knew Flicker kind of looked up to him. It wouldn’t be too hard to persuade him to let him in.

“Please Flicks?” Using that nickname was dirty, but Race was at the end of his rope. Hopefully Flicker wouldn’t hold it against him.

His expression was downright pained. “I-”

Race gave him his most pleading look. “Listen, this is really important to me, I have to see Spot. You can trust me, can’t you?”

Flicker finally gave in. He glanced around nervously before quietly and quickly saying, “Spot’s in the refuge. Has been for a little over a week. We’s not supposed to say nothin’ bout it to anyone though.”


	2. Chapter 2

Race froze. Inhaled sharply. What? There’s- there’s no way, he must’ve misheard. His ears were just playing tricks on him.

“Spot’s in the refuge?” His voice broke. Tears stung his eyes.

Flicker, upon seeing Race’s reaction, seemed like he’d rather be anywhere but there. “Yeah,” he winced, “but you can’t go spreading it around, I wasn’t supposed to tell you in the first place.”

The words swam around Race’s head, he barely heard a thing after Flicker confirmed one of his worst nightmares. Spot was in the refuge. Spot could be hurt. Bad. Race had had no idea. Race had been upset with Spot for something that wasn’t his fault. That was an idea that was going to hurt later. Hell, that hurt now. Spot hadn’t forgotten or wanted to break up with Race. That idea hurt a lot less. So that’s what he chose to focus on.

Race shook himself from his thoughts, this was fixable. This wasn’t a fucktangular mess of emotions, this was a tangible problem that had a solution. A solution that didn’t involve breaking up with Spot and breaking his own heart in the process, People could be busted out of the refuge. Jack had done it before and so had some of the other boys. They could do the same for Spot. Hopefully. “What are you doing to get him out?” Race demanded.

“What?”

“What are you doing to break him out of the Refuge? Manhattan-” Wait, maybe he shouldn’t promise all of Manhattan’s help without first asking them, “-I can help.”

“We’ve tried a few things but none ‘ave worked so far.”

“Let me talk to Hotshot then.”

Flicker hesitated before nodding and opening the door to allow Race inside. He gestured for Race to stay in the entrance while he left to go track down Brooklyn’s second.

When Hotshot arrived, dragged along by a very determined red-head, he took one look at Race before turning to Flicker in exasperation.

“You told him?”

Flicker spluttered. “Nevermind, we’ll discuss that later, for now,” Hotshot turned to Race, “Brooklyn can handle itself.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, wouldn’t I, of all people know that? I just wanna get Spot out as soon as possible.”

Hotshot gave Race an appraising look. “Well, what’ve you got then?”

“Let me talk to my boys and I’ll be back by tomorrow noon with a plan.” Race didn’t know how he’d kept his composure this long. He desperately wanted to cry, the unfairness of it all tore his insides to shreds. But he had spent enough time wallowing in pain, admittedly a different pain, but it was time that could have been used helping Spot so Race was going to hit the ground running. Who knew what had happened to Spot since he’d been locked up?

Hotshot glanced around, taking in some of the reactions of some of his fellow newsies before deciding. “All right Higgins. Talk to Manhattan and see what you can come up with.”

Race nodded. Then he turned and nearly sprinted out the door. Oh, he was going to Manhattan alright, but he had somewhere more important to visit first.

\---

Race was out of breath by the time he arrived at the Refuge. Running a frankly unreasonable distance and fast as one could tended to do that to you. He took a second to catch his breath and formulate his plan of how to get to the window and get Spot’s attention. His thoughts on the way there had been nothing but a constant stream of Spot Spot Spot and he hadn’t been able to think of less important things, like how he was actually going to get Spot’s attention and talk to him, or how he was going to avoid getting caught.

He eventually comes to the conclusion that he could probably climb the drain pipe and perch on the small ledge of the window and use either the pipe or the metal bars for balance. Yeah, that’d work. And with both things to hold on to he wouldn’t fall. Hopefully. So that’s what he did.

Race waited until the coast was relatively clear and shimmied up the pipe closest to a bunk room, it was harder to keep a grip on than he expected but he made it without falling. The creak the drain let out as he partially swung himself to the ledge was concerning, but again, nothing came of it. 

Once precariously balanced on the ledge and clinging to the bars, he did his best to get someone’s attention. The boy who noticed him looked to be no older than Les. It made anger simmer beneath Race’s skin and his grip tightened around the cool metal. He hated this place, no one deserved to be here, especially kids that young. He knew from experience. Race quietly asked the boy to find Spot and bring him there, and wished he had the forethought to bring food or something, both for Spot and the other children who clearly needed it.

Race quickly glanced around the street below, trying to gauge if anyone had noticed him. Thankfully he still seemed to be under (or in the case, over) the radar. He kept scanning until he was ripped from his thoughts.

“Racer?”

Race whipped around to find none other than Spot Conlon. He tried to check over as much of the boy as possible, he looked a little worse for wear, but the Refuge would do that to anyone, and Race couldn’t see any clear injuries besides a bruise or two from where he crouched. “Spot,” Race breathed out, relief overtaking him.

“Racer what’re you doin’ here? You’se could get in real trouble.” Spot was clearly concerned. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “And how d’you know I was here in the first place?”

“Your boys gave you up, Conlon.” Race’s attempt to be lighthearted found moderate success. “‘Sides, they probably knew I’d tear the whole city apart lookin’ for ya if they didn’t. I was pretty upset when I got down there.”

Spot made a face. Race removed one hand from the bars to scratch the back of his neck, then popped his fingers against his jaw. 

Spot winced. “I thought I’d be out a bit sooner than this an’ I didn’t want you to worry.”

Race met his eyes, for all the world looking like a broken boy, “There’s a lot worse things to be than worried, Spot.” They both looked away, Race to the street once again. Neither spoke for a minute, until Race broke the silence.

“So, how’d you wind up in here anyways?” He still didn’t look at Spot.

“One a’ my kids picked the wrong pocket and had a run in wit’ the bulls. I had to intervene and give him an opportunity to run, but by the time he was gone I wasn’t quite in good enough shape to get away myself.”

Race turned back and looked Spot in the eyes with concern. He was remorseful. “‘M sorry about our date, by the way. Promise I’ll make it up to you once I’m out.”

Race’s chest felt tight at that. Spot really did care. And Race was going to break him out no matter what. That also shouldn't be what he was worried about right now.

Suddenly a door bangs somewhere behind Spot. He glanced behind himself, panicked, before turning back to Race. “You gotta get outta here ‘fore Snyder sees ya. We’ll see eachother soon.”

Spot shut the window. 

Race managed to maneuver his way back over to the drain pipe and slide down without getting anyone’s attention. Now he just had to get back to the lodging house and let everyone know what was going on. Race thought back to the young boy who he’d seen earlier. Maybe Spot wasn’t the only one they would help.

They’d see eachother sooner than Spot thought, though, Race would make sure of that.

\---

Race burst through the lodging house door, gasping for breath. He really needed to learn to take his time getting to places. Most of the boys looked up from where they were lounging around. Finch, Specs, Elmer, and Romeo were all having a discussion by the window while Mike, Ike, Blink, Henry, and Albert played some card game on the floor while a few other boys watched. Jack and Davey were huddled in a corner talking in hushed tones.

“We need to plan a heist!”

Just about everyone rolled their eyes and went back to what they were doing, Albert included. Race was a little offended.

“And what might this heist be for?” Romeo inquired. Race grinned. He knew there was a reason Romeo was his favorite.

At least someone enjoyed his theatrics. Unlike Albert, apparently. “The prize being my boyfriend, and if possible, as many other kids in the refuge as we can!”

That got the room's attention. False bravado was a powerful thing. “Wait what?” Jack sputtered.

“Spot’s in the Refuge and we need to get him out, and I figured why not bust everyone else out as well. They can’t stop all of us.”

“Woah, back up a second,” Albert said, “Spot’s in the Refuge?”

Race met his eyes guiltily. “Yeah, an’ I’m not leaving him there to rot, or any of those other kids, so I’m bustin’ them out, whether you guys are with me or not. It’d be a lot easier if you were with me though.”

Race was determined. He remembered his time in the Refuge and he’s sure the other newsies did too. He wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to risk getting caught or dredging up old memories. It was why he hadn’t gone there since he was released, at least until today that was. But those old memories only fueled his determination. He’d hidden from the place of his nightmares for so long, as many did, but that didn't stop it from hurting innocent kids. Kids like him. It only stopped it from hurting him directly. Spot’s imprisonment was the kick in the pants he needed. That ended tomorrow.

Everyone could see the fire in Race’s eyes.

“That’s a stupid idea Racer, a jailbreak? Really?” Romeo piped up. 

“You’re one ta talk,” Finch scoffed.

Race glanced around the room. Most of the boys seemed hesitant. But hesitation was not a ‘no’ and he could work with that. He looked to Jack.

“Whaddaya say Jack?”

Jack was conflicted. “‘F you got a plan Racer, I’ll listen.”

And that was all he needed. 

Race explained the basics of his idea to everyone, taking input from those who had it (Jack, Davey, Specs, and Finch) and ignoring the heckling and jokes from those who had them (Mike, Ike, and Romeo). In the end, Jack, Albert, Finch, and Kid Blink agreed to help him with the plan. They spent the next few hours strategizing and hammering out the details until Kloppman came and sent them all to bed.

\---

Race got ready for bed, nervous for the coming day. This was a huge risk and one thing going wrong could end poorly for so many people. He lied awake, running through every possible scenario of how this could go wrong.

“I kinda feel like I owe Spot an apology. I know I didn’t do anything to him, but still…” Albert’s voice came from the bed below.

The sick feeling from earlier returned full force. The guilt wracked his body. Race had been so mad at Spot. He’d been willing to break up with him over this. Over something that wasn’t his fault. If only Race had known, he could've- he could’ve-

“Racer I can hear ya thinkin’ a mile a minute, come down here an’ talk to me.”

Race climbed down the ladder and into Albert’s bunk, immediately wrapping his arms around his friend and burying his head in his chest. He was shaking.

“I was so upset with him,” Race said shakily. Albert took a deep breath and started running his fingers through Race’s hair in a calming gesture.

“And you thought he was ignoring you, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t upset.”

Race sniffled. “You don’t get it, I- I was ready to…” Race trailed off. “But it wasn’t his fault.”

“Well how were you supposed to know that?”

Race gave Albert an inquisitive glance. He continued, “I mean, you had no way of knowing he was in the Refuge and the Brooklyn newsies certainly weren’t forthcoming with information. You were right to be upset given the circumstances. Hell, I was upset on your behalf. But now we know better and aren’t mad anymore. This whole thing is a mess but it isn’t really anyone’s fault and you just have to accept that.”

Huh, Race forgot that Albert could be pretty smart when he wanted to be. He’s suddenly very glad that Albert and him are friends, he doesn’t know what he would do without him. He should also work on remembering that Al is a good friend and that isn’t something to take for granted. Even if he doesn't always indulge Race's theatrics.

“You’re my best friend Albie,” Race said snuggling closer to the other boy.

Albert snorted. “Don’t I know it, no one else would put up with your needy ass. But you’re my best friend too Racer.”

Race drifted to sleep, more confident in himself and ever grateful for his best friend. They’d get Spot out tomorrow no matter what, even if it was just him and Albert, because Albert always had his back, and together? Together, Race believed, they could do just about anything.

\---

The next day everyone was jittery while at distribution. Trying not to seem suspicious but not exactly succeeding. Those who were helping in what Race had dubbed ‘The Heist’ were shifting around, trying to not let their nervousness shine through. The whole plan could go horribly wrong. They could all end up in the Refuge, or worse. But if it went right? Not only would they free Spot, but they’d help so many other kids who have been locked away and hurt by those who should never have been given that power.

Even those not participating knew what was at stake. Jack had given a run-down to everyone that morning: The ‘Heist Team’ would sell in the morning as to avoid suspicion and then head over to Brooklyn, where they would strategize and finalize their plan, then put it into motion by sunset. Everyone else would sell as many extra papes as they could to cover for the boys missing work as well as any boys who may be returning to or joining the newsie life once free. Some of the older boys would also try to lure any extra officers as far from the Refuge as possible to keep them out of the team's way.

It was a decent plan. But if they failed... 

\---

The Manhattan half of the team arrived at the Brooklyn lodging house at noon, just as promised. Quickly surrounded by Brooklyn newsies, not out of the ordinary, but met with a mix of suspicious looks and relieved sighs, very much out of the ordinary.

“Well Higgins, what’ve ya got?” Jack narrowed his eyes at Hotshot, he was well aware that tensions were high and this wasn’t exactly a situation anyone wanted to be in. That didn’t excuse him being short with Race.

“It’ll go down in the history books,” Race smirked. Full of false confidence. All of his boys behind him. Well, all but one. If there was one thing Race could do without fail, it was bluff. Sometimes Jack could barely tell. The twitch of his fingers, probably aching to crack, was what gave him away. 

“We’ll need someone on the ground from Brooklyn to lure as many bulls and guards away as possible, and Finch’ll take at least three shooters up to the rooftops, they’ll distract anyone remaining. Jack n’ Blink ‘ave volunteered to handle Snyder so you don’t hafta. Me, Albert, an’ anyone else who wants ta join will break one of the window bars usin’ these,” Race gestures to the tools Albert was currently carrying. “From there I’ll go in an’ grab Spot and you’ll work on getting out anyone else we can.”

Jack thought it was a pretty solid plan. It let every participant play to their strengths and was probably the best chance they had considering the handful of previous breakout attempts. Hotshot clearly wasn’t ecstatic about it but seemed willing to go along with it.

A somewhat shaky voice piped up from the crowd. “So we’s for sure breakin’ everybody out?”

Race turned stoically to the kid. “We’re certainly gonna try.”

\---

The sun was just starting to set, casting the world in an orange glow and allowing the boys to slip through now prominent shadows. They moved into position.

Flicker would lead as many guards as he could on a wild goose chase.

Finch and some Brooklyn slingshotters would distract the rest.

Jack and Blink would sneak past the clueless guards and keep Snyder occupied.

Race, Albert, and Hotshot had the actual break-in, with a few other kids for backup. It hadn’t been too difficult to get their hands on the tools to dismantle the window bars, but that was only because one Manhattan newsie’s dad was a smith and he’d ‘borrowed’ them for the night.

Soon the sun was half-set and The Heist was in motion. And it was up to Flicker to start. Well, if there was one thing a street kid knew how to do, it was cause a ruckus. And boy did he.

Flicker was fast. Could outrun everyone he’s ever met. Grinned like a madman when he felt the wind on his face and heard the pounding footsteps behind him. Doesn’t go too fast, yet. If he lost them now they might go back to their posts. He stayed just on the edges of their vision, ducking around people and in and out of alleys. Once he’s far enough away from the Refuge he’ll lose them in proper, let them scour city blocks where they won’t find him, far away from his friends.

Finch was a shot and a half. Hiding on a nearby rooftop, a few Brooklyn boys scattered around doing the same thing, he felt on top of the world. He kind of was. Had more ammo than he knew what to do with and shooting the remaining guards who were too stupid to look up made him feel powerful. These men, who knew what happened in the Refuge, facilitated what happened there, distraught over a couple of kids with slingshots. It was hysterical. Even once they noticed where the attack was being led from they couldn’t do anything about it. Too big and clumsy to climb up like they had and shitty enough aim that they couldn’t hit back from the ground. Hah. Finch could do this all night, and it looked like his allies felt the same.

Jack was nervous. Confronting Snyder scared him. He also was aware that he was one of the few people who would actually keep Snyder’s attention without drawing too much suspicion. Of their rag-tag team, it had to be him. And he wasn’t alone, Blink was right there at his side and despite what he let some people think, he could pack a real punch. And if they pulled this off Snyder would be humiliated. That was always a plus in Jack’s book.

All they had to do was trap Snyder in his office or lure him out of the building itself. Easy-peasy. Snyder might not even realize who it was if they were careful enough. Together they quietly slipped through the gates. Blink followed Jack’s lead, he was the only one who’d been here before and escaped. Jack guided them through the halls, halting at a partially opened door. He peered inside.

Kid Blink hadn’t even seen Warden Snyder like this, up close, before. If he didn’t know better he’d’ve thought that he was just some old man. But the things he’d heard…

Well, let’s just say Blink wasn't going to be getting comfortable anytime soon. Jack motioned for him to stay, then disappeared back the way they came. He reappeared about a minute later, carrying a solid wooden chair. Blink got the idea. He darted across the doorway to the other side, glanced at Jack for guidance, slow he motions, and Blink was. He, deftly as he could, reached into the office and closed the door with a soft thud and click of the handle. Jack immediately secured the chair under the handle. Hopefully that would hold him. If not they could always run, that’d still be a distraction. For now though, just sitting there and keeping an eye out was good enough.

Meanwhile, Race and the Bar Boys, as Race had so aptly named them, were preparing to strike. They had waited long enough that everyone should be taken care of and they could get access to one of the windows (on the ground floor this time) open.

Albert and Hotshot quickly get to work dismantling the whole contraption. They move together in a way that surprises Race, diligent and in sync. They’re done in a matter of minutes and then Race is crawling in through the window to go find Spot and they’re off to dismantle another. If they’re going to get every kid out using only one window would take forever. Most of the other boys followed them with two staying behind to man this entry point.

Race felt dizzy the moment his feet touched the ground inside the Refuge. The last time he was here was under much different circumstances. Circumstances that made him queasy when he thought about them too hard. Shook himself, unconsciously cracking his knuckles, he wasn’t a prisoner this time. He was here on a mission, he was here because Spot needed him to be. He could do this for Spot.

One foot in front of the other, out of sight and on the edge of cautious, Race maneuvered through the empty halls. Deep breaths, forcing down the bile as memories resurfaced. Just think about Spot. One foot in front of the other.

Spot was probably still in the bunk room upstairs. Step. That would be the best place to look for him. Step. And once he was there it’d be easy to address the other kids. Step. Then he’d have to check the more isolated rooms. Step. Free anyone there. Step. He wished someone had freed him while he was there. Step. Memories flashed through his mind. Step- and he’s at the bunkroom door.

One more deep breath and he’s opening the door.

Some of the kids turned to face him in surprise. Eyes combed over the room frantically.

“Where’s Spot Conlon?”

They glanced among themselves wearily until one boy spoke up. “He’s in one of the rooms.”

Race froze. That was bad. Very bad. Swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact. “We’s gettin’ you out, all of ya. The windows on the ground floor are open and everyone is distracted, but you hafta be real quiet and fast. There’ll be kids waiting outside to help you if you need it.”

The surprise is evident on nearly everyone’s face. Instantly most of the kids are grabbing their meager belongings and practically dash out the door behind him. Race waited for each kid to begin their escape before he forced himself to head towards the isolation rooms.

He walked in a daze, a hollow, aching feeling having taken up residence in his chest where his heartbeat should be. He could hear the muffled sounds of the escapees trying to keep quiet.

He braced himself.

The first room was empty. As was the second.

The third was occupied. A boy no older than thirteen huddled in the corner, cowering away from the intrusion. Race made it clear he was here to help and pulled the boy to his feet. Told him the same things he told the others and watched the boy run out the door. Race was shaking, just slightly. He never wanted to be in one of these rooms again. He still soldiered on.

Four was empty too.

Race didn’t want to see what was on the other side of five. Spot was on the other side of five. There was nowhere else he could be. Man, this place was messing with his head. The sooner he got Spot out the sooner they could leave. Race opened the door.

Spot was sitting in the corner as well, knees pulled up to his chest, head down and tense beyond belief. From what Race could see, there was visible bruising on his face that certainly hadn’t been there before. If Race hadn’t felt sick before… 

Tears gathered in his eyes and his throat felt tight. “Spot?”

“Racer? What- how- I-”

“We’re getting out of here, right now.” Race helped Spot to a standing position. However, the moment Spot put weight on his left foot he yelped. Getting a better look at it revealed that his ankle was clearly hurt, probably sprained.

Race tightened his grip on Spot. He had been able to walk just fine yesterday. If only he had-

Spot steadied himself, leaning into Race. Tilted his head so Race had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” Spot sounded so reassuring, so- so sure. Race had no choice but to believe him. Race rubbed at the tear tracks lining his face. Still slightly shaking, he nodded. They just had to get out of this place. Finally having Spot back with him allowed Race’s determination to shine through. And then they were on the move.

It was a long way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry this took so long! And I know the whole plot it kinda ridiculous but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This is kinda where the drama in the story ends but I think I have a good idea of how I'd want one more scene to go (p sappy honestly) and I didn't include it bc this was getting pretty long and I wanted to post it, but if you're interested in the aftermath scene just lmk!
> 
> Besides all that thanks for reading and I'm sorry you had to put up with my low quality writing for this many words.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks violetwolfraven for the request and I hope you like it! I was just planning on writing something real quick and then this kind of got away from me lol, sorry it's not edited super well. Would anyone be interested in a follow up/second part? And if so happy ending or nah?
> 
> As always if you have any constructive criticism please feel free!


End file.
